


The Night Manager: Episode 7, or, Surfacing

by Tametomo



Category: The Night Manager (TV), The Night Manager - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Aftermath, Elizabeth Debicki - Freeform, F/M, Hugh Laurie - Freeform, Interrogation, Jeopardy, London, Olivia Colman - Freeform, Revenge, Sex, The Night Manager - Freeform, Torture, Villains, What Happened Next, tom hiddleston - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-20 10:19:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10660530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tametomo/pseuds/Tametomo
Summary: SPOILERS: read the summary and/or story at your own risk if you haven't seen all of The Night Manager.It gets pretty violent, as you might expect when the worst man in the world is in town, so please bear that in mind if you find graphic violence difficult to read....Jonathan Pine is adjusting to life in London after Richard Roper has been apprehended and handed over to his furious former associate/arms buyers Mr Kouyami and Mr Barghati. He thought he had put the experience behind him, until he receives some disquieting news that threatens to destroy him and everything he cares about...





	1. Chapter 1

The night terrors had subsided, but not retreated altogether. They still chased Jonathan Pine through his sleep from time to time; villages on fire, fathers gunned down, children foaming at the mouth, the awful ballet of rising smoke plumes and vertically plummeting planes, a sickening symphony of fire and destruction and commercially negotiated mass murder. Jonathan kicked the sticky sheets away from him, an arm over his eyes, breathing raggedly, sweating in the cold night air. The futility of these dreams wore at him. He needed sleep, not a reminder of the world he had escaped four months earlier.

Not for the first time, he wished Jed was here. It was the only time he felt lonely, waking from this flood of violent imagery to silence and space. She didn't call, or write much. Though it was unspoken, he suspected she had put that world behind her too.

He hauled himself out of bed, pulled on sweatpants and sloped into the kitchen. There was just enough milk left for one glass. He sat at the kitchen island, hunched over the glass, trying to shake the feeling of depression that crowded in upon him. It was strange being back in London after so many years as an exile, and he had not adjusted. He had no routine, no purpose. Who were all these people that passed him greyly in the street in the daytime? What was the point of them? What was the point of him, and what was he going to do? This could not go on. It would drive him over the edge.

He returned wearily to bed, pulling the sheets back over him and ignoring their now stale smell. Sleep settled on him, calmer than before.

 

\---

 

He awoke again with a jolt; no dreams this time, but the shrill, amplified scream of the telephone.  
"Jonathan? It's Angela."  
"Angela? What- it's... five in the morning." He dug his fingers into the corners of his eyes, dislodging the sleep from them.  
"Jonathan, shut up and listen to me." Angela Burr - she was well named, her voice was exactly that - an efficient, comfortable northern burr, every t brisk and precise, every u tunnelled into an oo sound.  
"You need to pack a bag and be ready to leave in fifteen minutes. Not a minute more, Jonathan."  
"What's going on?" He swung his legs out of bed as he clutched the phone to his ear.  
"There isn't time for this. Get moving."  
"I am - I'm up. Tell me what-"  
"It's Roper." At the sound of his name, Jonathan's vision darkened and the walls of the room receded from him in a sickening rush. "He's in the wind, Jonathan. The slippery fucker wriggled free. We've just got word. We're sending someone to get you."  
"What the hell happened?"  
"Not now. We'll tell you the rest when we pick you up. You CANNOT stay there, Jonathan."

The line clicked dead. Pine switched back to his old, familiar travel mode; pack swiftly, methodically; no unnecessary flapping about. Clothes, passport, toothbrush, razor, aftershave, phone, iPad, charger, wallet, keys. Go. He paced back and forth in the living room in the dawn gloom, then stopped. One more thing to do. He pulled his mobile back out and dialled a number. A long, flat American dial tone. No answer; straight to voicemail.  
"Hi, this is Jed. I'm not here right now; leave a message."  
"Jed, it's Jonathan. Roper got away. You have to get OUT. Don't call the police, just take Billy and go. Don't tell anyone where you're going. Don't go anywhere secluded; crowded is safer. Call me back when you get this."  
He paused.  
"Stay safe."  
Headlights glared through the door and he shielded his eyes with his hand. A fist hammered roughly on the door. He baulked, then stepped to the door and glanced through the peephole. The ruffled brown head of Angela Burr, and a tall man with her. He opened the door.  
"Jonathan. Ready? Let's go." As he set off toward the car, she put a suspicious head in the door of his flat, peered around briefly then shut the door and followed the two men.

"So what exactly happened?" Rain spattered metallically off the hood of the car as they sped through the empty southwest London streets.  
Angela's face was grim. "We thought Kouyami and Barghati's friends would dispense some local justice; we expected to find Roper facedown in the Nile. Didn't happen. I don't know how he got out; but he was seen in Tunisia two days ago."  
Pine was silent for a moment.  
"Where are we going?"  
"We're taking you to a safe house."  
"What do you want me to do?"  
"I don't want you to do anything." Burr's voice did not invite compromise. "You're done. You've no cover any more, we can't use you. I said we'd keep you safe and we will."  
He stared out of the window, as the morning sky faded from deep blue on the horizon up to a chill grey and the points of Chelsea Bridge came into view.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pine is taken to a safe house and contemplates his options, but things take a dark and frightening turn when an intrusion shatters the peace.

An hour later they pulled up to a small apartment block in Forest Gate. It looked like it had once been an office block. The street was unlovely; on one side of the block was a stretch of scrubland with spiked metal fencing around it. On the other side was a small industrial estate.  
"We own the building," remarked Angela as the three of them ducked their heads from the rain and reached the entrance door. "You shouldn't see anyone else, so if you do, bloody well call me straight away. You've got my number." Pine squinted up at the side of the three storey building, and back around at the street, and followed her inside.

The flat was on the top floor, and opened directly into a living room with square windows, white walls and cheap laminate flooring. Halogen lights were set into the ceiling, and two lines of white-painted sprinkler piping snaked across the ceiling.  
"This is charming," said Pine mildly.  
Angela gave him a look.  
The flat had been kitted out simply with Ikea furniture; a sofa, a compact armchair, a small white rectangular dining table and chairs, and a basic fitted kitchen. A small old fashioned CRT television sat on a little side table. Doors at the far end opened into a bedroom and a windowless bathroom.  
"So, what now?" asked Pine. "How long do you want me to stay here?"  
"Til we know it's safe. You're not going home while Roper's out there. If we have to get you somewhere else permanent we will."  
"Is it that likely he'll come after me? It'd be a pretty stupid risk to take."  
"Y'ruined his life, Jonathan. Brought his nasty little livelihood crashing down around his ears. You think he's not going to have something to say about that? Anyway we can't take the risk." Angela looked distractedly about the room, as if searching for something she'd forgotten.  
"What about you? He knows you planned it all."  
"I've got someone watching things at home for me and Mr Burr. And Terry here keeping me company when I'm out and about." She beamed briefly at her companion. "Right, I think that's everything. We'll be in touch. There's food in the fridge. Don't go out." Angela bustled out and Terry followed her.  
"Thanks," Pine called, and turned around to survey his surroundings again. Strolling over to the kitchen area, he examined the contents of the fridge and cupboards. A basic supply of food greeted him; coffee, tea, eggs, bacon, potatoes, onions, white bread, pasta, some jars of pasta sauce and tins of beans, chickpeas and tomatoes. Pine did not feel inspired to cook up a storm.

He wandered into the bathroom and gazed at his unshaven reflection. He wondered if they'd suggest changing his appearance. Faced with the prospect, he realised he was more content with what he had than he realised. His pale eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, but his face had a handsome, amiable symmetry; sharp cheekbones and nose, a thin, inscrutable mouth, expressive eyebrows and a peppering of light freckles across slightly sunbrowned skin. His fair hair, cut close at the sides and back, was tousled above his forehead but reasonably presentable considering the events of the day so far. It was a face that had caused him few problems in life so far, and had opened a few doors here and there. He looked at his watch - coming up to 8am. He looked back at his reflection and hoped they wouldn't ask him to disguise himself with any undignified hairpieces or anything more permanent.

The day passed with agonising slowness. The TV only had a basic range of channels, and Pine was too restless to focus on daytime TV. He paced the flat like a caged animal, flicked noncommittally around news sites on his iPad, glanced at his phone too frequently, silently willing Jed to return his call, and thought about Richard Roper. How had he slipped his chains and escaped the wrath of Barghati's men? Who or what was in Tunisia? And what was his next move?

 

\---

 

Pine slept badly. The mattress was cheap and ridged with springs, and his thoughts turned over rapidly. By the third night, he was a little more accustomed to the discomfort, and managed a full three hours' sleep. He was awoken in the small hours by the sound of the TV from the living room. Wearily he sat up, stretched his shoulders, dragged on some sweatpants and padded next door to switch it off. As he reached it, the laminate floor creaked behind him. He spun around in the blue-grey light of the TV and something hit him full in the face.

Reeling, he clutched his bleeding nose, and looked up. Three men stood before him, old faces he had expected never to see again. The burly profile of Frisky, the Scottish bullyboy whose job was largely composed of punching, cutting and heavy lifting. Another henchman, Tabby, glowered down at him too. And behind them, the sardonic face of Richard Roper. The cold light of the television cast appalling shadows down his lined face, and he looked down at Pine with the frown of a displeased father.  
"Hullo, old boy." His old adversary spoke. "Help him up, will you, Tabby?"

Still cupping his face with one bloody hand, Pine pushed himself backward on the floor with the other hand as Tabby and Frisky advanced toward him. Clutching him under the arms, Tabby hefted him to his feet, and Frisky's massive fist smashed into the side of his face. He saw stars, and the force of the blow knocked him out of Tabby's grip. As he staggered to get up again, a boot landed in the small of his back, propelling him face first toward the floor. He felt a hand grasp his hair and pull his head back, and then a terrific blow struck him on the back of his head and everything went black.

The three men circled the body that lay prone on the floor. Droplets of blood speckled the floor around the sandy head, and the man's muscular, naked back was muddied with grime from the underside of the boot that had floored him. One hand, outstretched, was covered in blood from the man's face. The other arm was crumpled under him. The two burlier men reached down and heaved him over onto his back. The handsome face was dark with blood. The third man stepped across the younger man's body, and leant over to switch off the hissing TV.  
"I think that went rather well," remarked Richard Roper.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan falls into the hands of his nemesis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some bloody violence and descriptions of torture - warning in case you find this triggering.

Pine came to in a haze of agony. His wrists, bound above him, hurt horribly, and his raised arms pressed against the sides of his face and dulled his hearing. The men had strung him up so as to allow only his bare toes to graze the floor. He ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, and tasted blood. Creaking his bruised eyes open, he painfully tipped his head back to get the measure of his situation. A plastic cable tie was the source of the searing pain in his wrists, and a rope around the binding suspended him from one of the pipes on the ceiling. Sunlight sliced through the window, and to the right of him, a low, gravelly voice pierced the silence.  
"Pine."

Roper sat in the armchair in the corner of the room. He sat back, a composed figure considering his options. Pine twisted his head as far as he could to look at him.  
"How..." His voice didn't work properly and he managed to croak a single word before it cracked.  
"How? Well, I've been in this business a long time, old bean. Made a few friends along the way. Or didn't you realise that? Did you think it'd be so easy? D'you think I don't know what I'm doing?" His voice rose to a bark.  
"Kouyami...", Pine replied weakly.  
"Kouyami understood the difference between instant gratification and long term reward," said Roper. "We came to a mutually beneficial arrangement. A truce, if you will."  
"How did you find me?"  
"Your friend Angela Burr's ship has a leak. It's a simple enough business to get a person to talk to you if you know a thing or two about them in the first place."  
Pine swallowed. He asked quietly, "What do you want?"  
Roper fixed him with an iron look. His voice was low, guttural, deliberate.  
"I told you if you stepped out of line I would make you howl for your mother."  
"Payback." Pine's mouth was a tight line.  
"Fair remuneration for all your efforts." Roper leaned forward, and called, "Frisky! Tab!"  
Leaning back, he said, "I'd like you to do me a favour first, though, old friend."  
Pine was silent as Frisky and Tabby appeared from the bedroom and handed something to Roper.  
"I'm going to make a phone call on your phone, and I'd like you to have a chat with Mrs Burr, and ask her to pop round for a visit. You can sound... calm enough not to spook her, but concerned enough to get her to come running. A bit of acting. You can do that, can't you, Pine?" Roper's voice was affable and reasonable.  
"No." He answered quietly, but the word was laced with steel.

"Now, listen." Roper stood up and came to stand in front of him. He gripped Pine's jaw in his hand. "Have you ever heard of hara kiri? D'you know what it is?"  
He had. He did. He swallowed, trying to jerk his chin from Roper's grasp, and tried not to show the panic that rose in him like a sea swell.  
"Ancient Japanese ritual. They were actually still doing it halfway through the last century, though not officially, of course. A creative way of killing yourself for honour's sake. They give you a special knife, and you make one sideways cut in your belly, left to right, and then a vertical one. Ritual disembowelment. A soldier's death. You were a military man, weren't you?"  
He paused.  
"You've done me wrong, Pine, and you're not going to walk away from it. But you have a choice in how bad it has to be."  
Pine met his eyes, and kept a stony silence. A parade of images played on the back of his eyelids, all of them grimly red. Sophie Alekan, splayed on a hotel room floor. Jed, her neck and face bruised. Apostol and his girlfriend, their throats cut. And this man the architect of it all. This vengeful man, who now fixed his attention on him. He felt sick.  
Roper tucked his chin into his chest and lowered his voice. "Alright. We'll come back to that later. Frisk, be a sport and bring her in, will you?"  
The Scot nodded and opened the front door, disappearing down the hallway. Roper sat back down, resting his elbows on the armrests of the chair and clasping his hands in midair.

  
\---

  
Frisky reappeared, and had his hands around the arms of a fourth, struggling figure. Jed's face was streaked with mascara. Her hair was longer than Pine remembered it, but the long, lithe frame was the same. The same luminous eyes, now wet and flickering with fear. He drew a halting breath. She saw Jonathan, and froze and sagged limply in Frisky's arms, the fight in her extinguished.  
"Ah," said Roper with warmth. "The old gang, back together. One missing though, eh?" His voice darkened.  
"You lied to me. You turned my woman against me. You torched my business and my reputation - and you destroyed the man I trusted more than any other in the world. You turned me against him."  
Pine's face was grim as he held the older man's stare. He twisted uncomfortably on his ropes.  
"Jed, darling -" She shuddered as Roper turned his attention to her.  
"Something I meant to ask you last time I saw you. When you double-crossed me with this scoundrel... did you do it because you were in love with him? Or -" his voice lowered - "because you hated me?"  
She shook, and didn't answer. Pine saw her breathing quicken. Roper crossed the room toward her slowly.  
"Do you love him?"  
"I... don't know."  
"You destroyed everything you had, and you don't know?" His voice dripped with contempt.  
"I..." Her gaze went to Jonathan. As she took in his face, the blood, his bound wrists, her eyes darkened.  
"Frisky," Roper barked. Frisky stalked toward Pine, and slammed his fist into his abdomen. Pine made a strangled sound and his body jerked, and Jed moaned wordlessly.

"Here's what's going to happen," announced Roper. "We're going to take a little time to repay Jonathan for his friendship. We'll come back to the question of Angela Burr very shortly. As for Jed... I haven't decided which of you two will go first. I suppose that depends on how the morning goes. Frisky, show Jonathan your new toy."

Frisky stepped over to the little dining table and retrieved a small case. Opening it, he took out what looked like a thick length of coiled wire. He stretched it out. Threaded along its length were fifteen or so razorblades, glinting nastily in the sunlight.

"As soon as you're ready to make a phonecall, Pine," said Roper lightly, "just let us know."

Horror spread across Jed's face as Frisky approached Pine. He twisted the wire in his hands and, unfurling it again, planted his feet about a metre from the hanging figure. Pine couldn't calm his laboured breathing, but clenching his teeth, he fixed his stare on a smudge on the wall in front of him, and, bracing his head against his arms, tensed his face into a rigid mask. Frisky swung, and a lightning strike of pain exploded across Pine's back. He gasped and convulsed violently. It took everything he had to force back the sound that threatened to tear from his throat. Silence was the only weapon at his disposal, the only expression of dignity or self-determination left to him. To cry out was to concede the game to Roper. Across the room, Jed covered her face with her hands, choking down a wave of nausea before Tabby silently and forcefully peeled her fingers away and roughly nudged her head to face the awful scene.

Whether it went on for minutes or an hour, Pine could not have said. He focused on the blessed mark on the wall, counted the strokes until his mind clouded and lost the count, and prayed for unconsciousness to take him before cowardice did. Throughout, Roper sat in the armchair to the side of him, a look of contemplation on his face. Jed sobbed at first. As it continued, she lapsed into a sort of numbness.

She sat on the sofa, her knees together, as Tabby stood over her. Once he was satisfied that she was watching attentively enough, he turned to appreciate the spectacle before him. Behind him, Jed's eye hovered over a welcome distraction. Tabby's Beretta was tucked into his waistband behind him. She balanced the options hectically in her mind. The dreadful terror of reaching for the gun and failing, making clumsy contact or losing her nerve. The whiplash strokes and choked grunts that punctuated the silence, as Pine's back ran with blood. The possibility that Frisky would finish before she gathered her courage, or that the savage onslaught would kill Jonathan. The chance of Tabby turning around. She took a breath, and in a sudden, desperate movement, snatched the gun from Tabby's waistband.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan's time is running out and Jed has one chance to save him.

Tabby spun on his heel, but Jed was up on the sofa above him, the gun pressed against his forehead.  
"Back away!", she demanded. "Back!" Tabby retreated, his face a murderous mask. Roper stood up, and Frisky turned towards her reaching for his own pistol, but she swung the gun towards them, and snapped, "Don't!" Once Tabby reached the corner of the room by the window, she jerked the gun back to the other two men, and gestured at them to join him.  
"Jed, darling," said Roper, reaching a placatory hand toward her. His voice was low and dangerous. "This is going to backfire very badly on you."  
She shook her head slowly, and waited for them to reach Tabby.  
"Sit down!" The three men lowered themselves to the floor.  
She darted to the kitchen counter, keeping the gun trained on them constantly, and groped for a knife from the knife block. Approaching Pine, she reached up with one hand and tried blindly to saw at the plastic that locked his hands together.  
Pine, weak but still clinging to consciousness, muttered, "The rope... cut the rope." His head swam and he leaned it against his elbow.  
One-handed, she sawed frantically at the vertical loop of rope but the knife was dull along the length, and without both hands to guide it, she couldn't get enough tension to fray the rope. The gun shook in her left hand as Roper, Frisky and Tabby watched her. She had the sensation of being a small bird watched by a family of cats. Her skin crawled.

She whispered in Pine's ear, "I can't." She felt his cheek, sticky with sweat and blood, against hers.  
He croaked hoarsely, "Pull."  
She puzzled at him, and he continued, "My hands. Grab... pull down." Each word was an effort. "Hard as you can. Do it quickly."  
Grateful for her height, she reached up and grasped his wrists, hanging on carefully to the gun at the same time. She yanked downward sharply, and as Pine lifted his feet and heaved suddenly downward with his shoulders, the join of the sprinkler pipe above them snapped, bringing forth a jet of cold water that immediately drenched them and sprayed across the room. The pipe clattered to the floor as the water spurted in all directions, and Pine lurched to the ground where he lay motionless in the growing flood. She swiftly turned the gun back on the three men who had started to get to their feet.

"Down! Get back down!" she shouted. White hot fury coursed through her, steeling her muscles and sharpening her reactions. The immobilised little bird was less than a memory. Anger shadowed Roper's face as the three men resumed their places on the floor, their clothes blackened by the rapidly spreading pool of water. At her feet, Pine drew his wrists to his mouth and twisted his head to nip at the cable tie with his teeth. She crouched down, keeping the men in sight, and with one hand pressed his wrists to the wet floor, before slipping the knife between them. She bore down hard on the blade, and the tie was nearly severed. Pine pulled his wrists apart sharply and the tie snapped. He rolled over and sat up with difficulty, grimacing through the pain. She gave him her hand and he hauled himself to his feet. Looking around wildly, he saw the packet of cable ties on the table. He reached for them, and then asked Jed urgently, "Do you know how to use that?"  
She tightened her grip around the gun handle, stared hard at the men in the corner and replied, "Yes. I do."  
"Then if they make any sudden moves, shoot." He walked unsteadily over to them.  
"Get up and turn around. Face the wall. Step away from each other." Angrily, they did as they were told. Pine jerked Frisky's hands behind him, and fastened a cable tie around them, yanking sharply. He noticed without remorse that the red skin flooded white around the plastic as the circulation was cut off. He did the same with Tabby, and then Roper.  
"Get back down," he ordered.

From behind him, Jed's voice came. "Move, Jonathan." He spun around. Her face was set and her arms were outstretched with the gun.  
"Jed - it's okay," he appeased, stretching out a hand.  
"Move." Her voice hardened. His brows furrowed, and she stepped sharply to her right, and fired. The bullet flashed past him, and as he turned, Richard Roper slumped to the floor.

Pine reached her, and laid a hand on the gun to lower it.  
"Stay there," he said, meeting her eyes gravely. He hobbled over to Roper, and carefully pulled his phone from the older man's jacket pocket. Returning to Jed, he dialled Angela Burr's number.

 

\---

 

Angela surveyed the chaos as four police officers pulled Tabby and Frisky to their feet and led them from the room.  
"I know you weren't keen on the place, but bloody hell, Jonathan," she remarked.  
He sat hunched on the sofa, Jed's hand locked in his. Her eyes were fixed on him, while he stared at the floor. Angela looked at them. The water now covered their feet. Pine's sweatpants and Jed's dress were soaked. His hair was tousled into wet, messy strands that dripped water onto his knees, and her's was plastered to her head. Half of his face was covered in blood, and his bloodied back was a mess of cuts. Despite that, he seemed to be in one piece.

"Come on, you two," Angela murmured. They got to their feet, Jed helping Pine up, and walked slowly toward the door. Downstairs, the rain hammered the waiting car as Jonathan and Jed got in, clutching blankets around themselves. Angela climbed into the front seat.

As east London retreated behind them, Angela turned around and said, "There's a hotel near the office. We'll have a doctor come to you - I can't imagine you feel like negotiating A&E right now." Pine raised his head from Jed's shoulder and looked, expressionless, at Angela, before slowly dropping his head back down again. Jed looked down at him and extended her arm tighter around him.

They drove the rest of the way in silence. As they neared the hotel in Victoria, Angela spoke up again.  
"I don't suppose you've thought yet about what you want to do next? After all this is out of the way?"  
Pine was silent for a moment.  
"London's not for me. I can't make sense of the place. I can't fit in here." He paused, and thought for a second.  
"We were thinking America."  
Jed's free hand reached his, and tangled her fingers in his.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jed and Jonathan find solace.

Jed closed the hotel room door behind her. The room was small and nearly silent but for the hum of a minibar fridge under the desk. Her other hand stayed in Jonathan's, and he tugged her toward him. She wound her arms around his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her angular shoulders. Their clothes were still wet and their skin like ice. Tipping his head, his mouth went to her neck, behind her ear, and stayed there. They stood like that for a long time, locked tightly around each other, their eyes closed, unwilling to shatter the moment.

Jonathan lifted his head, placed his hands either side of Jed's face and looked seriously at her. He kissed her mouth; a long, still kiss, breathing her in. Her fingers reached for his hair. They explored downward, tiptoeing down the nape of his neck, until suddenly he recoiled, stiffening violently as she intruded on one of the lacerations on his shoulders. Remorse flashed across her face - "I'm sorry," she whispered. He closed his eyes and shook his head, running his hands down either side of her narrow waist.

She drew away from him a little, circling around one side of him to look at his back.  
"Let me -" she began, but he held her by the forearm and pulled her back to him, shaking his head wordlessly. His eyes met hers, and he pulled her towards the bed. He turned her, and pushed her slowly backwards onto the bed. His knees pinned her down either side of her hips, and crouching over her, he buried his face against her chest. He stayed there, motionless.

"Jed." His voice was a ragged whisper. She wanted to cry. She had never seen him like this and it scared her. She cradled his head, pushing kisses onto his forehead and hair, and nudged his arms up toward her. He raised himself up, leaning over her, and held himself there, looking at her seriously. She couldn't decipher his expression. Then his face dropped to meet hers and his body crumpled into her.

As his weight pressed into her frame, he kissed her jawline hungrily and she felt his hardness swell between her legs. Her teeth gnawed his lips and she wrapped her legs around him, inching her hands out from under him to tug at the damp sweatpants. He kicked at them, struggling to free his legs, and she hooked her toes over the waistband to drag them over his ankles, kicking them off the bed. He pulled roughly at the lace around her crotch, as his hot, urgent breath filled her ear. There he was...she put her palm over the round head of his cock, and snaked her fingertips around its length. Pulling the flimsy knickers to the side with two fingers, she steered him toward her, shivering as his hot flesh grazed the delicate skin at her opening. He pushed into her hard, and she arched her body as she let him in. His name escaped her lips in shredded little gasps as he filled her. She imagined, for a moment, staying that way for the rest of her life; his lower lip between her teeth, his body heavy on hers, locked inside her, her insides aching and shuddering with painful need, a sense that they were the same organism, rejoined.

He pushed deeper into her, his hands scrabbling at her hair, covering her breasts through the damp, pale chiffon dress, and she clutched him to her, spreading her hands around the muscles in his arms and shoulders. She tried not to let her hands skim the broken skin of his back, but when they did, it was as if he was unable to feel it. He was in oblivion, lost inside her. His fingers clawed at her skin and her mouth claimed his greedily. The ache became a slow explosion, reached critical mass; she almost sobbed with need, as his breath became a shapeless, hoarse cry and finally she felt herself flooded with him. Spent, they froze for a moment, his forehead pressing into her shoulder, her fingers clutching tufts of his hair. His breathing stilled gradually, and her fingers slowly released their grip as he sank down beside her. They said nothing, but wound their arms around each other and shivered as the sweat cooled on their damp skin.

His head on Jed's gently rising and falling chest, the breath leaving him in a calm, quiet whisper, Jonathan slept. Somewhere on another continent, ghostly lights seared the sky and plummeted to earth, erupting in a wall of flaming clouds as they met the dusty ground. But Jonathan slept on, and did not dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking about a follow-up piece for this story. I think Jonathan Pine still has some adventures ahead of him... I'm thinking and writing :)


End file.
